


Up All Night

by imafriendlydalek



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Army Vet Steve, Coffee Addict Tony Stark, Fluff, Hotels, Justin Hammer is an ass, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: There's a group of idiots at his bar, and Steve is trying real hard to stay friendly. Until he can't anymore.Tony never could resist a hot bartender, especially not one so beautifully opinionated.





	Up All Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orbingarrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/gifts).



> This is a (terribly belated) birthday gift for the darling orbingarrow. It grew from a late-night headcanoning session inspired by a beautiful coffee bar/actual bar tender at a hotel I was staying at, and now I've finally managed to write the damn thing. Hope you enjoy it, dearie!

Steve looked warily over at the group of guys sitting at the bar counter as he wiped down the milk foamer on his espresso machine. There was an expo or a conference or something for defense contractors in town - Steve hadn’t really been paying attention when his boss had mentioned it - and the five-star hotel next door that the attendees had all been booked at had had a fire last week, so they were all at this lowly four-star instead. Which a number of them, clearly accustomed to more prestigious accommodation, had taken every opportunity to point out.

This particular group had come in about an hour ago, five of them, and had been occupying most of the bar area quite loudly since then. They were grouped around one of the guys, a medium-height guy with stylish glasses and an expensive-looking suit, who was clearly trying way too hard to make himself sound awesome.

Right now he was regaling anyone who would listen with the tale of some business deal he managed to conclude with what sounded like some seriously shady characters in ways that were almost definitely not considered “best business practices.”

“I’m telling you guys,” he carried on, turning to lean against the bar, “all this new legislation is gonna blow the field _wide_ open for us. We’re talking eight, nine figures, easy.”

Two of the guys nodded approvingly as the braggart preened.

“Hey barkeep,” he called over to Steve, “get us another round, will ya? What’re we having, boys? Scotch? Get us a round of scotch, barkeep. The good stuff.”

Steve nodded in acknowledgement and turned to get their drinks. Man, he hated people like these - who think they are better than others because they have more money, who think the world owes them something because they have money, and who treated war like a game.

He poured out five glasses of scotch, arranging them carefully on a small tray. It wasn’t until he turned around again to bring the group their drinks that he saw the other man enter the bar.

“Here you are, gentlemen,” he said as he placed the glasses in front of the group, watching the newcomer out of the corner of his eye.

Like the other five guys at the bar, this new guy was also wearing an expensive suit, a dark grey three-piece suit paired with a deep red shirt and tie. His wrist bore a watch that probably cost more than Steve would earn in three years.

Unlike the guys at the bar, he looked like he couldn’t care less about his appearance. His hair was gloriously rumpled, as if he’d been running his hands through it all day. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. As he pulled the glasses off his face, Steve noticed the dark rings around his eyes.

“Scotch, please. Neat,” the man said as he took a seat on the barstool furthest from the other guys. “Fuck,” he said a moment later, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Hold that. You got any coffee?”

“Espresso machine’s shut down for the night,” Steve started to explain, which was when the man looked up, their eyes meeting for the first time.

His eyes were a piercing blue, almost unsettlingly so given his dark hair. There was disappointment in his eyes, and sadness, but mostly he looked tired.

Steve felt his chest clench. “But I can turn it on again. Just gimme a few minutes - it takes a bit to heat up.”

The man smiled weakly. “Thanks,” he said, his eyes drifting down to the name tag on Steve’s chest before he added, “Steve.”

“Anthony!”

The man in the grey suit squeezed his eyes shut and seemed to be steeling himself as the braggart made his way over.

“Justin Hammer, my least favorite person.”

The braggart just laughed, clearly unfazed by the man’s lack of enthusiasm at seeing him. “Anthony, come join us. Boy, I’ll tell ya, what a day!” The man - Justin Hammer, Steve knew that name from somewhere, he just wasn’t sure where - waved his nearly empty glass. “What a speech, Anthony! Here, let’s raise a glass to Tony Stark!” 

Hammer gestured for his groupies to follow his action, lifting a glass towards the man in the grey suit.

Tony Stark. That was definitely a name Steve knew. He looked the man sitting in front of him over. He’d seen pictures of him in magazines, had seen the video of that now infamous press conference, but that overconfident, cocky guy was nowhere to be seen tonight. 

Steve busied himself with getting Stark his coffee, keeping one eye on the men at his bar as he did.

It was clear that Stark wanted nothing to do with Hammer and his group, and he waved off Hammer each time he tried to buy Tony a drink. Hammer seemed not to catch or care about Tony’s disinterest, kept pushing, his statements becoming increasingly outlandish and irksome.

“I hear they’re gonna send some troops into Syria, finally blow it to hell.”

A blast of steam hissed out of the machine as Steve gripped the lever too hard when the memories flooded in. Sand as far as the eye could see, and smoke, and bombs, and screams.

He pushed the thoughts down again, and the urge to punch Hammer in the nose, focusing instead on tamping down the ground espresso.

“They’re gonna need a shitton of equipment for that. You picked a pretty poor time to get out of the weapons business, Anthony, my friend.”

Stark turned to face Hammer, leveling his gaze on the man. “First off, we are not friends, Justin. Second, there's _plenty_ of money to be made in _defense_ equipment too. And third, I’d say once you start seeing lives at stake as a chance to make a quick buck is a good time to reassess one’s view of the world.”

A quiet huff of laughter escaped Steve, and he didn’t bother trying to hide his smile.

“Oh, you got an opinion too, barkeep?” Hammer asked, his eyes narrowing at Steve.

Steve straightened his posture, pulling himself up to his full height, and crossed his arms. Even with the bar between them, he knew he had an imposing look - he’d spent years perfecting it while he was in the service - and yep, Hammer seemed to shrink back. Steve shrugged. “Sure, I got an opinion. You probably don’t want to hear it, though. Big man like you, not really interested in the opinions of a lowly veteran Army captain who’s seen guys - and girls - lay down their lives for their country while guys like you hide in your offices counting zeros on your government contracts without seeing the people behind it all.”

Hammer looked about three feet tall after Steve’s speech and yeah, Steve was totally patting himself on the back mentally for that. Stark was grinning widely.

A few seconds passed before Hammer had regathered himself. “You’re right, not really interested in your opinion. You know what, this bar is pretty disappointing. Think we’ll head somewhere else, what d’you say, guys?”

Steve did his best to hide his smile as Hammer and his groupies filed out of the bar. They didn't settle their tab, but that was fine - he had their room number on file anyway. Instead, he turned his attention to the espresso machine.

“Sorry to cost you your customers,” Stark said. He was already pulling out his wallet. “Here, let me make it up to you.”

Steve waved away the bill Stark was waving at him, not daring to see which president adorned it. He suspected Jackson. “It’s fine. I’ll feel better about myself for not serving them anymore anyway.”

As Stark huffed and tucked the bill back into his wallet, Steve pulled out a saucer and set it and the espresso in front of Stark.

“Here you are, Mr. Stark, your Americano.” 

Stark looked up at him, his features softening gratefully as Steve pushed the espresso cup across the bar. Steve wasn’t sure if it was because of the drink or because Hammer was gone, the bar now empty except for the two of them.

“Tony. Please, call me Tony.”

Steve nodded with a smile. 

“Careful, it’s-” Steve tried to warn, but Stark - Tony - had already knocked the drink back in one gulp, wincing only slightly at the temperature. “... hot.”

Stark shot him a suggestive half-smile, his eyes raking over Steve. “Sure is, Steve. Hey, it’s been a long day, sure could use another.” 

He pushed the empty cup towards Steve, who took it with a raised eyebrow. “It’s 12:30 at night. If I had that much caffeine now, I’d be up all night.”

“Well then you’re welcome to join me.” 

There was no denying the invitation in his tone, and Steve felt himself flush. Sure, he got hit on by guests from time to time. Usually women, of course, mostly if they were there with a group. They didn’t usually mean it seriously, just a bit of fun on a weekend out - who doesn’t love flirting with the bartender, after all? Heck, that was probably why Bucky did this job, incessant flirt that he was. Not Steve, though. He tended bar because the tips were decent and the hours fit around his schedule at art school. Not to mention the interesting study in humanity it allowed for.

He usually brushed off any advances with a warm smile and a laugh, maybe a few nice words. He’d never followed through on it before, mostly because he hadn’t been interested.

Something about Stark, though - the way he fiddled with his cufflinks as if they were the only thing that could keep him from floating away. The way his hair curled into his eyes. The way his tie hung loosely around his neck - Steve could almost picture the moment of frustration when Tony had tugged it loose, and he caught himself wanting to pull on it some more until that knot opened up, and to slide it out from under his collar, down along his side, to watch it drop to the floor next to Tony’s waistcoat.

Steve swallowed. 

Right, he had another shot of espresso to make.

“Bar closes at two,” he heard himself say.

“I’ve got all night,” Stark replied, the corner of his mouth raising in a crooked smile.

Steve set to work making Tony’s espresso, then made one for himself for good measure.

***

“I’d like to point out,” Steve mumbled into the curve of Tony’s neck, “for the record, that I don’t usually go up to their rooms with guests.”

“Oh yeah, you take them back to your place?” Tony propped himself up on his elbow, raising an eyebrow teasingly at Steve. 

Steve, however, was busy taking in the form that lay next to him - the plains of lean muscle stretching across Tony’s stomach, the way the bedsheet pooled around his hips (not like there was much modesty to preserve anymore at this point), the scarring in the middle of Tony’s chest. Steve had heard the news coverage about Tony’s kidnapping at the time, but it had never mentioned how he’d gotten out. “Dumb luck and some damn good engineering,” Tony had called it when the circumstances of his survival had come up during their two-hour conversation before the bar closed. Steve hadn’t pushed the matter - he’d heard some pretty grisly stories about kidnappings during his time in service and could only imagine what Tony must have been through. 

He pushed back the thought, instead letting his gaze sweep over Tony and into the room. He had never actually been in any of the hotel’s suites before, and had had much better things to focus on than looking around last night as they’d stumbled in, limbs wrapped around each other, hands and mouths exploring the other’s body. All Steve had perceived of the room at the time was that the distance between the door and the bed was _way_ too far, and the bed was gloriously massive.

The decor was the same kind of minimalist modern style of the hotel’s public areas, with massive windows that would probably be flooding the room with light if it weren’t six in the morning, and polished metal fixtures offset by plush carpeting and an overstuffed sofa. It was nice, but Steve couldn’t see wanting to spend the kind of money the hotel charged for a night.

Then again, a few hundred bucks was probably small change for guys like Tony and Hammer.

“No, that’s not - I mean - this isn’t something I do often. Or ever, really.”

“Well, I can’t exactly say the same for myself.” Tony cocked a smile, shrugging in a way that was entirely unapologetic. “Though _I_ don’t usually spend two hours chatting them up beforehand. Nice change of pace,” he added with a grin.

Steve returned the smile before running a hand through his hair. “I think I could get fired for this, actually.”

Tony brushed his fingers over Steve’s arm before giving it a squeeze. “I’d offer to buy the place, but that would technically make me your boss, and then we’d have a whole other bureaucratic headache to deal with.”

Steve chuckled. “I bet. I appreciate the sentiment, though.” He pushed himself off the bed reluctantly. As much as he wanted to stay, he couldn’t risk losing his job over it. (“It’d be worth it,” the voice in the back of his mind niggled) “I’d better head out before the cleaning crew starts their rounds. Mind if I grab a shower before I go?”

Tony sat up and gestured towards the bathroom. “Knock yourself out.”

Steve padded across the room to the bathroom. He was just about to close the door when Tony spoke again.

“Well, you know, if you do find yourself without a job, or just wanting to get away from these hideous winters, I’ve got a lovely place in Malibu and a vacancy for the position of “Kept Man”.”

“Thanks,” he said as he stepped into the shower. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” he heard Tony say.

***

**Six months later**

Steve smoothed down his tie for what was probably the fortieth time before tugging his cufflinks back into place.

“You look great, sweetheart,” a voice murmured into his ear, warm breath ghosting over his skin. The sound sent a calming shiver through him, and Steve let himself exhale. He turned to face Tony, who was smiling at him reassuringly.

“Besides,” he added with a shrug and one of his irresistibly arrogant smirks, “they’re all here to see me anyway. You’re just arm candy.”

“All the more reason to look presentable,” Steve muttered, mostly to himself. He watched as Tony stepped out of the car, waited a few moments for the wave of camera flashes to die down a bit before following. He straightened to his full height, reminded himself he’d dealt with far worse and could handle a few (hundred) photos being taken - he was _not_ going to let the flashes get to him, he’d resolved. “Just cameras, Steve,” he told himself. Nothing to worry about.

Instead, he pasted on his brightest smile and looped his arm through his partner’s. It was their first public event together, after all, and he was determined to make it good. Like Tony had said, they were all there to see Tony - it’s not every day they give you a Lifetime Achievement in Science award, after all.

Tony was eating up the attention in his typical Tony Stark™ way - chest out, broad grin, sunglasses over his eyes, a witty one-liner for whatever questions came his way. 

Steve felt himself relax as he watched Tony, and soon a genuine smile was replacing the pasted-on one. A wave of happiness surged through him and he briefly worried that he might explode. Instead he dropped his hand to give Tony’s a squeeze, pulling him closer in the process.

“I love you,” he whispered to Tony.

Tony stopped in his tracks and turned his full attention to Steve.

Okay, maybe the red carpet wasn’t the right place to lay that kind of news on Tony, Steve thought as Tony pulled off his sunglasses, and a stab of worry shot through him. What if Tony didn’t feel the same way? Had he put Tony in an awkward situation, forcing him to say something he might not mean just to avoid causing a scene in front of all these people?

But then a wide smile spread across Tony’s face, a genuine one, the kind that brought with it the crinkles around the eyes that made Steve’s heart tick just a little faster.

Tony slipped a hand around Steve’s waist, pulling him close and - red carpet crowds be damned - in for a deep kiss. 

“You too,” Tony sighed, just loudly enough for Steve to hear. More loudly, he added, “Come on, let’s get inside. There’s an award waiting with my name on it.”


End file.
